


The Bleeding Lance

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Dehumanization, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Gangbang, Humiliation, Loyalty, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon, Rape, Ring of the Lucii (Final Fantasy XV), Ritual Sex, rape for the public good, ruthlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Following the assassination attempt on Noct and the invasion of Tenebrae, Regis decides to resurrect an ancient ritual to create a conduit for power to flow from the King to his Kingsglaive. How could Ignis refuse to serve the Crown in such a way?
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Original Male Character(s), Regis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fics from the Basement, Nonconathon 2020





	The Bleeding Lance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gooseberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/gifts).



> > Lovers, don't be sparing with the truth  
> Break their hearts if that's what you must do  
> Fill them with remorse, tinged with hope of course  
> And let their baser instincts pull them through  
> (Frank Turner, Fisher King Blues (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z3lUuWkUVw)

Sylva via Fleuret bound Regis to an oath sworn on the Ring of the Lucii, as they stood in the heart of her royal haven, that Lunafreya and Noctis would one day wed.

At the time Regis felt it was simply a precaution. Later, when he fled, leaving Sylva dead and her children in the enemy's hands, he admired her prescience instead. In her own way, she was as ruthless a ruler as he was. She knew before he did the road he would travel, the choices he had to make, and she'd wanted to ensure that at least one of her children was as unavailable to him as his own.

But when – in an enraged frenzy following the assassination attempt on Noct – the Lucii had commanded Regis to revive the old magic, Ravus hadn't ever been his first choice as sacrificial conduit. He arranged instead for the Scientia boy's uncle to meet with an accident and had the house and its belongings disposed of by the time he returned to Insomnia. Ignis was granted temporary housing in the Citadel, which made it easy to have him summoned to Noct's quarters as soon as they were back.

Noct had bought presents for all his friends, but they'd been abandoned. Ignis assured him that the greatest present he could be given was Noct's health. Noct showed him how he could walk all on his own – with the use of a frame – from the desk to the sofa, and then he and Ignis sat there and talked, leaning on each other as they whispered about their respective recent traumas. Regis left them for a few hours, ordering food to be sent up, and spoke with Clarus and his minister of law. 

He'd had two weeks since the brazen daylight assault on Tenebrae in which to formulate his plan of action, and while Clarus had made a protest on moral grounds, he knew the lore as well as anyone. The king was entrusted above all with the protection of Lucis and its people; since he first wore the ring, Regis was constantly conscious of the judgmental weight of his ancestral line, their scornful voices ringing in his head day and night, like an inherited madness. The ring and the crystal forged the soul of the king, legend said, burning away impurities like joy, affection, compassion. Regis fought against them as hard as he could to be allowed to retain his love for Noct, but his heart, he suspected, had otherwise grown as cold as crystal, a perfect tool for serving the state.

He let Noct have his reunion, simple, innocent comfort after tragedy. But when he decided it had gone on long enough, he straightened his shoulders, rubbed his thumb against the ring in a vain attempt to still the myriad ways it told him he was weak, and had Ignis brought down to his office. 

*

"Your cousin is your legal guardian now, and she wishes you to reside with her." Regis saw Ignis flinch. "You're young. I'm sure you'll adapt quickly to life in Lestallum."

"I want to stay with Noct," Ignis blurted out, too distraught to attempt to make his words diplomatic. His hands were balled into fists, and as Regis watched tears leaked from his eyes. He sounded very much like a broken child. Good.

Regis opened the file on his desk, purely for dramatic purpose; he knew well what the contents were. "There is a way the Crown might assume your guardianship in her stead." Truthfully, his word was law, and he could retain Ignis in his position at will with no strings attached, if he so desired. "In the reign of King Saeva, when the coast was under a barrage of assault, he created a military force called the Kingsglaive, who were blessed with power taken directly from the crystal."

Ignis swayed forward, hope flaring in his eyes. "I'd be trained to fight, then?"

"Far more important than that." Regis drew a breath, steepling his fingers. The bait was taken, but he still needed to reel the boy in. "The crystal – like the ring – will incinerate anyone not of royal blood who dares to touch it. But if someone so wills, they may be forged into a sacred conduit through which power passes from crystal to king, thence to the chosen vessel, and from them to the Kingsglaive." He saw Ignis attempting to understand, though of course the scope of the undertaking was beyond him. He added, as if trying to be helpful, "For King Saeva, that was Queen Casia."

"I am willing," Ignis said, chin up, ignorant but brave. "I will do _anything_."

That was what Regis wanted to hear. He smiled.

*

A legal marriage was the easiest way to bind Ignis into an inescapable contract, should his love for Noct not prove strong enough to buy his continued compliance. Clarus drew the papers up; he disliked the idea, but he was aware that his own second child was equally suitable.

Queen Casia had been half Ignis' age when she was chosen, and age was a question Regis and the Lucii in his head had debated. Must the chosen conduit be a child, or is virginity the sole requirement? Will a boy be able to serve just as well as a girl? Regis was more than willing to try again should Ignis fail, but he was aware of the risk this posed for him, if word got out. Noct would not forgive him easily.

Noct and Ignis attended physical therapy sessions in the mornings, and Regis was pleased to hear that Noct was making good progress, if somewhat prone to showing off for Ignis. The therapist suggested that he might even be running and playing by the close of the year.

Noct had lessons in the afternoon, so Regis had Ignis summoned to his office. With Clarus officiating, they swore their vows and put their signatures to multiple legally-mandated clauses. Bright as he was, Ignis didn't even make an attempt to read through what he was committing himself to; not that it mattered. He was aware of his own lack of choice and power, but despite that he stood straight in his somber mourning suit, pretending to be an adult. Clarus' disapproval hung heavy in the room, but he hardly had a better idea. He was fortunate that the former Shields were silent.

Legalities out of the way, Clarus took the paperwork off to be hidden behind a wall of state secrecy. Regis saw him out, and locked the door behind him. He told Ignis about how strong the Kingsglaive would be, and how their military hierarchy would be determined. He read from historical texts about the kinds of powers and abilities that would flow through the conduit, and added his own speculations. When he judged Ignis was thoroughly bored – though hiding it as well as he could – he told him to go stand in front of the desk with his hands on the top.

Ignis obeyed, but his curiosity was piqued, confusion showing in a frown.

"The legal transfer of guardianship has taken place," Regis explained. "But there is a sacred, mystical component to the ritual – a consummation that must be completed to make you worthy."

"I don't understand," Ignis said.

"Until it's done I can still have you sent to Lestallum," Regis clarified. Ignis' head bowed, his shoulders tensing and making the fine wool of his waistcoat bunch.

Regis reached around his waist and undid his belt and the top button of his trousers. Ignis' hips were slim enough that this made it possible to push both trousers and underpants down, and they fell in a bunch to his knees. Ignis made a noise that would probably have been a protest if he'd dared, and tensed even further. His exposed ass dimpled as he clenched it, doubtless expecting to be struck; the sight made Regis aware of the arousal he'd been ignoring since Ignis signed away his rights.

The constant murmur of the Lucii in his head was a presence with an alien perspective, one which had long since had the impurities of human needs and feelings burned away. Food was necessary, taste was not; fear served only as a mechanism for making sure that he truly was serving Lucis. The Lucii didn't care at all about Ignis' youth or inexperience, nor did they have any patience with Regis for his selfishness at regretting this necessity. The throb of his hard cock in his trousers was the impatient pulse of their hunger to flood the world with Lucian power.

Regis freed his cock and slicked it with the oil he'd had Clarus bring, and then leaned forward to lay his left hand over Ignis' on the desktop. Ignis cried out as the ring flared to life where it pressed against his skin, placing his life quite literally in Regis' hands. His struggle was brief, quickly overtaken by confused enervation, and Regis used that moment to penetrate him.

The Lucii had demanded he produce an heir, but once he had he hadn't been allowed to divert his attention and energy towards sexual pursuits. Now that the act was permissible, though, he felt like he was drowning: withered and atrophied needs bursting into violent flower. He was aware that not all of the electrifying passion was his own. He preferred grown women as partners, but Ignis in his eyes was suddenly ideal, his body just beginning the process of becoming a man but still small, malleable, teachable.

He watched the red length of his cock as he pulled back, the way it split Ignis' pale ass in two, and then the way Ignis' back bowed and arched as he thrust forward, forcing Ignis up on his toes in futile attempt to escape. The power of the crystal lent a violet glow to Ignis' veins, visible under his shirt and along his shaking legs. Regis was captivated, and he drove into the boy over and over, imagining a victorious army, peaceful rule over his lands, his being subsumed by the approval of the Lucii and the devastating approval of the Crystal.

Orgasm felt like an afterthought to that, a wet meaty twitching that recalled him unpleasantly to his body. He pulled out and made Ignis shuffle into the bathroom, telling him to wash up as well as he could, and then to lie down on the sofa with a towel under his bare ass until the blood and semen stopped leaking out.

The ring had burned a scar, already healed, on the back of Ignis' hand.

Regis worked at his desk for an uninterrupted half-hour longer, and then let his secretary know he was going to have dinner with Noct. He invited Ignis along, watching in amusement as Ignis dressed himself with fussy haste, trying to rub away the wrinkles in his clothes and pressing the backs of his hands to the red puffiness of his eyes in futile attempt to make it look as if he hadn't been crying.

The Lucii in his head castigated him for being soft on the boy, but they didn't understand what leverage love afforded him. He told Ignis that he could move into the small, plain servant's room adjacent to Noct's, provided he assist Noct with his exercises and tutor him as necessary. Ignis was _thankful_ for this, his shadowed face lighting up.

He couldn't walk quickly without limping and his posture was uncharacteristically hunched over. Regis assured him he'd become used to serving the Crown in this manner.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ignis said after a short pause. For a moment, he looked as if he might lose control of his carefully-schooled expression and let his terror bleed through. Regis recalled his own distress when he'd first worn the ring.

"It is an honor to serve the Crown so well," he said, and watched Ignis struggle to reconcile his dreams of glorious service – something childish involving swords, no doubt – with the reality.

Best he learn young, Regis supposed. A King moved ever forward without looking back, else he'd see himself abandoning his dearest friends for the good of the nation; sacrificing outlying populations of citizens to keep the majority safe; clutching his own child and running from a battle where his friend lay murdered and her children captive; making of his son's childhood companion a tool of the Crystal. Always moving forward, away from the knowledge that he was helpless to prevent Noct's prophesied death. In the end, helpless against it all.

Noct was immediately distressed by Ignis' appearance, but Ignis brushed his worries away, claiming that he'd begun undertaking training and was merely a bit sore.

"After all," he said, matching his slow pace to that of Noct, who'd insisted on walking with his frame instead of using the wheelchair, "you're working so hard, how could I do less?"

"Are you using swords?" Noct asked. He sounded as if he'd be jealous if that was so."Can I watch?"

Ignis sucked in a shuddering breath, so Regis intervened.

"He's studying to be the Hand of the King," he said. "To support the defense of the kingdom. There's quite a bit of ancient lore which Ignis will need to master. If you wish to resume your weapons lessons with Cor – or Gladio – you may at any time."

"Really?" Noct said, successfully distracted.

Regis very nearly said that Noct shouldn't count on his enemies to go easy on him simply because he was young and injured, but Ignis had got his voice back and said, "I read that in the old days, swordsmen used weighted gloves and weapons. If they could master a skill even with those impediments, they'd be formidable in battle."

Noct huffed, lost by the big words, and changed the subject to speculation about when he'd be able to go fishing again.

Dinner was pleasant, though Regis noted that Ignis' appetite was poor enough that he didn't feel up to criticizing Noct's picky eating. He wondered fleetingly whether Ignis might need medical attention, but then dismissed the thought. In any case, should intervention be necessary, he could easily create a potion that would work better and attract less attention.

Regis saw the two of them back to Noct's room after dinner, where he reminded Ignis of his duties before leaving them for the night.

He spent the next few hours making detailed plans for the establishment, recruitment and training of his Kingsglaive, and when he woke he went straight to his office and summoned Clarus to set the wheels of royal duty in action.

He let Ignis' life start to take on a comforting routine. In the morning he'd assist Noct's personal attendant in readying him for school and see the armored car off with a wave. Then he'd go upstairs to report on Noct's behavior and demeanor to Regis and answer a few questions about his own studies. After that Regis would have him, over the desk or on the sofa, against the wall, whispering the threat of doing Ignis with his naked body pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window facing out over the whole city. He got it over with much faster when he knew Ignis was scared of him; he enjoyed having the thrill of power, of his interests aligning with the Lucii's.

Ignis became accustomed to the necessity of use in a handful of weeks, and Regis rewarded him with tutors in military strategy and diplomacy, and weapons training that would, Regis explained, prepare him well to join the Crownsguard at eighteen. When Noct returned, Ignis helped with his exercises and homework, and they ate dinner together. Regis joined them when he could; he loved to see how bright Noct was when with Ignis. It made him think he'd done well. Or at least, the best he could have.

Though he was forbidden from showing anyone beside Regis and Clarus, Ignis was always eager to demonstrate how the Crystal had blessed him with its favor. He could summon flames to dance in the cupped palm of one hand while snow flurries formed in the air over the other and swirled out on a magical breeze. He accessed the royal armiger with ease, and was permitted to keep a set of daggers there, in case he ever needed to defend Noct. He could throw the daggers and warp across the room to catch hold of them, his grip lethal and efficient, lowering his center of gravity with confidence.

He was ready, Regis told Clarus, who made a sour face but no protest. He wouldn't dare, not when Ignis was so intent on proving that Regis was following the right path.

The two hurdles for recruiting members for the Kingsglaive were the issue of training and the ignominy inherent in the act of connecting to royal power. Regis wanted to raise a force at least a thousand strong, but they'd need leaders first, and he didn't wish to weaken his Crownsguard of members any further. So he'd had Clarus choose fifty men and women who'd served in the Crownsguard or the civilian police force, but who'd been incarcerated, exiled outside the wall, or forced to resign. _Murderers, rapists, thieves, and swindlers_ , Clarus had pronounced.

"Kingsglaive isn't an honor," Regis had reminded him. "It's putting trained bodies between Lucis and the enemy until the daemons tear them apart." He'd begun flipping through the files, making his choices for the first group, the second, and so on. "Saeva was victorious, you'll recall."

Clarus made a neutral sound, though Regis knew it was disagreement. Yes, the Glaive had turned on Saeva after the Queen's untimely death. But Ignis was undoubtedly stronger than she'd been, and more motivated. He would not abandon Regis.

He arranged for the first ten men of his choosing to meet with Clarus. They swore an oath of secrecy to the Crystal and signed legal documents that would have them spending the rest of their short days in solitary confinement if they dared tell others what the Crown was proposing.

Despite their multifarious crimes, all of them were still fiercely loyal and eager to prove themselves worthy of the limited freedom being offered. The magical abilities were a strong enticement, enough to overcome their fear of Saeva's favorite punishment for traitors, roasting them to death from the inside out.

Regis hoped he didn't need to do that. But he suspected he would take to murder as easily as he had other things. In time he might come to enjoy that use of power as well.

All but one man agreed to join, and Clarus had him removed from the room and returned to prison. Perhaps he'd meet with an accident on the way; Clarus was thorough, despite his disapproval.

He was also responsible for creating a ritual, though no record of such survived in Saeva's records. Clarus had argued that a thin gloss of religious or spiritual sentiment would make this duty more palatable, and less capricious. The nine men were taken to an unused shower room where they bathed and shaved, and then dressed in simple white robes and escorted, like barefoot pilgrims, up to recite pledges and vows before the crystal to "reflect" on their loyalty and "purify" themselves.

In Clarus' scornful words.

While that was being done, Regis proceeded separately to the chosen rooms and had Ignis called out of his afternoon lessons. The suite chosen for the conferrence of powers was just four floors below the classroom. Intended for visiting dignitaries, it had a parlor, bathroom, and bedchamber. The men would wait on the sofas until summoned to the bedroom; Regis would let the magic flow from him, through Ignis, and bind them one by one to the service of the Lucii and the crystal.

Ignis took the stairs down, so as not to be observed, and knocked lightly on the door. He looked nervous enough when Regis admitted him that Regis half-wondered if he'd done something wrong and thought he'd been found out – sneaking out with Noct, perhaps, or bribing someone to borrow a gaming device. Some childish transgression.

He didn't try to reassure Ignis or explain what was about to happen; he didn't see how that would do anything aside from cause unnecessary distress. He had Ignis undress and lie face down on the four-poster bed. The heavy curtain that normally ran along the foot of the bed had been moved toward the center, and Regis had Ignis position himself so the fabric fell across his lower back, leaving just his ass and legs exposed, facing the bedroom door, his toes curling over the edge of the mattress. He looked like a sacrificial offering. Regis seated himself at the head of the bed, out of view, his phone at his side so he'd be alerted by Clarus before the men arrived.

"Your Majesty?" Ignis said. He was breathing far too fast, and though his chest was pressed obediently to the sheet, he'd turned his head so he could look up as best he could.

Regis recalled suddenly that Clarus had recommended gagging the boy, and had left a suitable strap for the job on the dresser. He got up and fetched it, feeling awkward and put out, knowing Ignis was watching.

He unbuckled it, testing the strength of the leather, and then said, "Open your mouth."

Ignis did, but only for the words _please_ and _I'll be good_ and _don't_ to tumble out in a rush.

Regis felt a lightning-flash of anger toward him for making this difficult, and tugged Ignis' head up by his hair as he pushed the bit between his teeth and tugged the straps into place behind his head. The rings dug into Ignis' cheeks, so perhaps the fit would need adjusting in future, but his silence was a relief.

On the mattress, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. Regis let Clarus know they were ready, and turned Ignis' head to the other side as he heard the front door open and his future Kingsglaive file into the parlor.

He'd imagined that they'd be chatting amongst themselves, making crude sexual jokes, perhaps. But the men were silent. And then the door opened and he heard bare feet pad across the floor.

Clarus had cameras set up, of course, and Regis flipped idly between the feeds on his phone. The man's face was wary and closed off as he examined the tableau: a black curtain, a fuckable hole. Doubtless it looked like a trap, some political blackmail scheme. But he undid the belt on his robe, filled his palm with lube from the bottle placed on the floor, slicked his hardening dick, and mounted the bed. He pushed Ignis' legs up and to the side, freezing again as he took in that he was meant to take a boy and not a girl, and then shrugged, lined himself up, and pushed.

Ignis' breath was loud around the gag, a wet garble of pained violation. His hands clawed at the sheets; Regis reached down and laced their fingers together, the ring fitting snug into the scar it had eaten into the back of Ignis' hand. At the familiar flow of magic Ignis tightened all over, which must have come as a surprise to the man fucking him. He swore, and slapped Ignis' ass, and Ignis dug his forehead into the mattress as if willing his body to accept its duty.

The man's rough thrusting went on for longer than Regis had anticipated, but eventually he came, and Regis felt the magic erupt from him and flood the channel Ignis had made, linking him to this man and making of him a defender of Lucis and the Crown.

"Shit!" The mattress jolted, and Regis heard the man stumble on the floor, and Ignis cried out sharply. 

"Enough." Clarus' voice was hard and judgmental, and Regis felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment even though he knew he was hidden from view. Ignis, used and exposed, whimpered. "Hold your hand out. Show me the blessing of the crystal."

A pause, and then a flickering golden light filled the room.

"Put it out," Clarus said. "Clean up, get dressed, go sit back down." A susurration of fabric, and then he called: "Next."

Regis had been concerned that the process would be difficult; he hadn't anticipated how boring it was to wait through fuck after fuck, for another sweating man to grunt and grind his way to orgasm. He caught up on his email and had his secretary send him some reports to peruse. Ignis started crying between the third and the fourth man, and the sheet became a sodden mess of tears, snot, and drool beneath him. The sixth man seemed put off by Ignis' come-stained ass, bruising from being slapped and kneaded, and his stretched, swollen hole, but took a breath and mounted him anyway. He pulled Ignis' hips high, thighs spread wide where they straddled his legs, and set a slow, sensual rhythm that made Regis grit his teeth.

He could command the man to just get on with it, if only he wasn't supposed to remain out of sight behind the curtain. Caution was necessary, Clarus had insisted, as was plausible deniability.

Regis lost himself to thoughts of escape for a moment, but was pulled back to reality by Ignis thrashing suddenly, getting his hands under him and pushing up like the mattress was on fire. Regis shoved him back down in annoyance, but quickly spotted what had distressed Ignis so badly: the man's hand between Ignis' legs, wrapped around his dick, so that each thrust pushed him forward into his grip.

Regis hadn't considered whether Ignis might be capable of finding pleasure in his new role; he'd assumed that like any other duty, Ignis would perform to the best of his abilities, regardless of his personal feelings. In that they were alike. Regis found the act distasteful, and wasn't sure what he felt about Ignis deriving any kind of sensual pleasure from it. But the look Ignis gave him was one of horrified humiliation, and he mouthed the bit of the gag as if trying to form words, an apology, perhaps, as the man jerked him off methodically. Regis sent Clarus a quick message, asking him to tell the remaining men to simply focus on their own climax.

Ignis came in a series of spasms, like he was having some kind of fit, a deep flush staining his shoulders as red as the length of his cock as it soaked the sheet with come. When his body had stopped twitching, Ignis was limp and pliable, his eyes open but unfocused. The man fucking him apparently thought he'd fulfilled his necessary courtesy to his partner, and came himself shortly after.

He wasn't, Regis noted with satisfaction, any more favored by the magic for having tried to seduce the royal conduit. He supposed he should make it a rule that none of the Kingsglaive were to waste time pleasuring Ignis; simple fucking alone took far too much time. But he also wondered how many times Ignis could come, and how desperate he'd be to not disappoint Regis. If he was ordered, he'd probably learn to come on every dick.

Regis held back a sigh as the man left and was replaced by another. He could see already that he'd have to experiment with the process. As king, he couldn't afford to sit idly by hours at a time; hopefully, Ignis would be able to work even without Regis at his side. He'd also have to recruit a few women and find out whether Ignis simply needed to induce orgasm, or if the act of penetration was key.

Once he had the Kingsglaive leadership established, then he'd have more flexibility. Until then, he'd follow as closely in Saeva's footsteps as possible.

The seventh man left, then the eighth, and at last the ninth.

Clarus led them all outside once again, to be conducted down to the tailors to be fitted for their uniforms. Part of the Citadel's private cell-block had been converted into a dormitory, where they'd be housed for the rest of their training, and then they'd be formalized in their ranks and assigned new recruits to train themselves.

Within the next year, Regis hoped to have the Kingsglaive protecting the length of the border, defending the wall and driving Niflheim back. There would be peace; Noct would grow and marry, have children of his own. Become king one day, and inherit Ignis and his skill.

The warm, satisfied approval that emanated from the ring as he thought that made his own arousal suddenly apparent. He got up and pulled the curtain to the side. Ignis lay as still as if he was asleep, legs in a wide V of invitation. His upper body stood out in pale contrast to the abuse the lower had taken: he had scratches, bruises, and even what looked like purpling bite marks along his calves.

Ignis' chest rose and fell, as if he was unaware that he was being observed by his King; as if he didn't care. To Regis' eyes his passivity reeked of self-pity, and he would have none of that. He'd prepared a potion of healing, which once broken over Ignis' back made all the physical evidence of his ordeal disappear. He ordered him to stand, and Ignis did so after a moment, moving as if he wasn't sure he could trust his own limbs to obey. Regis removed the gag and tossed it on the bed.

Ignis stood there, naked and filthy with his arms hugged tightly across his chest, but the first words he said were, "Thank you."

"Go wash and dress yourself," Regis said. "Noctis should be finishing with his exercises soon, so if you're quick, we'll be just in time for dinner."

Ignis ducked his head in a bow, and made his slow, shuffling way to the bathroom.

While he bathed, Regis exchanged a brief flurry of texts with Clarus and arranged a meeting with him that evening, to review the events of the day. Clarus was, he noticed, unhappy that the process had been so successful. Not that he'd desired yet another failure for Regis, but... he now had no grounds to make a protest. This was how they'd protect their country, with criminals and undesirables given access to unimaginable magical power through means... ignoble, perhaps, but what else was capable of standing up to Niflheim's army of robots and daemons?

When Ignis emerged, hair curling damply across his forehead and face scrubbed so harshly his cheeks looked sunburnt, he kept a distance from Regis, as if suddenly afraid, or shy.

But he followed, mutely obedient, as Regis exited the room.

In the elevator, Ignis drew a sharp breath and asked, "Sire. How large of an army will you make?"

Ha. The boy was still a tactician at heart. "As large as is required. One thousand Glaives? Ten thousand?" He shrugged. "I will not have Lucis laid siege to."

"Yes, Your Majesty." To his credit, Ignis didn't sound judgmental, and he didn't ask further questions.

When the elevator doors opened, Noct was just rounding the corner at the far end of the hall. He caught sight of them and waved, excited.

"You stay there, Specs," he called, "and watch, okay?"

He was walking unassisted, but as he came towards them he started to run. His steps were halting due to his limp, and Regis felt pained to see _his child_ reduced to this, the murmur of the Lucii in his mind telling him Noct was weak, not worthy, likely to fail his destiny and cast the world into ruin.

But Ignis laughed, the shadows falling from his face, and ran to meet Noct halfway, catching him up in an exuberant hug.

The Lucii were dead; many had barely been human when they'd lived. This, Regis told them, triumphant, was how people were best controlled: ruled not with fear, but with love.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts:  
> Aftermath - Victim Unable to Hide Evidence of Their Rape From Others  
> Dehumanization - Victim's Body Considered Government Property  
> Loyalty - Submission to Rape as Part of Duty/Job  
> Orgasm - Victim Orgasms and Is Ashamed  
> Position - Victim Bent Over Table/Desk  
> Scenario - Victim Tries to Stay Quiet During Semi-public Rape  
> Dehumanization - Victim's Body Considered Government Property  
> Inexperienced Rapist  
> Initially Reluctant Rapist  
> Loyalty - Submission to Rape as Part of Duty/Job  
> Marriage - Arranged Marriage  
> Marriage - Forced Consummation  
> Scenario - Victim Pretends It's Consensual  
> Virginity - Loss of Virginity


End file.
